One Less Bell To Answer
by In.The.DiNozzone
Summary: Chapter one is mostly Jen having personal time. And being all angsty. Second chapter will involve Jethro. Jibbs, of course. :D


**Title: **One Less

**Rating: **R18... Just in case…

**Characters/Pairings: **Jenny Shepard. Mentions of Jethro Gibbs; Jibbs.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own NCIS. Obviously. If I did, do you honestly think Jen would be dead?

**Warnings: **Not for chapter one...**  
**

**Spoilers: **Er, nope.

**Author's Note: **I get most of my inspiration from music.

* * *

_Oooh, A chair is still a chair,_

_Even when there's no one sitting there._

_Well, I'm not meant to live alone-_

_Turn this house into a home._

_When I climb the stair and turn the key,_

_Oh, please be there,_

_Still in love with me... _

_Though I try to forget it just can't be done._

_Each time the doorbell rings I still run,_

_I don't know how in the world_

_To stop thinking of him_

_(I should be happy)_

_'Cause I still love him so…

* * *

_

Jen sat silently at her kitchen table, as she often did in the morning, staring at her coffee while she continued slowly adjusting to the morning. She hated mornings, she always had. At this point, she was so used to getting up early, she just happened to- but that didn't mean she liked it. Slowly, her gaze moved from her coffee to the other side of the table where there was another chair. An empty one. That simple fact made her morning just a little more sad. It was one of those Saturdays where she was going to have to go out of her way to not think about the fact she was alone. It wasn't like she could change the fact there was no one across from her. After all,_ a chair is still a chair, even if there's no one sitting there._

She shifted her weight, moving her leg out from under her and standing up. She picked up her coffee and turned away from the constant taunt of that empty chair, walking over to the counter and leaning on it to look out the window and finish her coffee. She figured this mood was probably brought upon by the dream she had the night before, one of a memory of Paris.

If she chose to be honest with herself, which was a rarity these days, she had to admit that the ops in Europe had probably been the best years of her life. As independent as she had been then and still was today, she didn't mind being with someone occasionally. Even if those times were very few and _very_ far between… She took a deep breath and let out a long, slow sigh. Since she'd started working again at NCIS, seeing her old partner every day, she had begun to notice that her house felt like less of a home. _Perhaps, I'm not meant to live alone._ She cringed at the thought, almost feeling as though thinking it had been painful to admit. She shook her head, downing the last of her coffee and setting her cup in the sink. She hated the nagging thought every night when she came home, that just like before, she would come home, unlock the door, and find him there. Still loving her. She felt her stomach turn, and all thoughts that had even resembled that of having breakfast fled her mind.

Lowering her head, she let her eyes fall closed and her mind wander, a small smile tugging at her lips as her mind eventually found memories of Paris again. Waking up and finding herself alone, but hearing the distant sound of someone in the kitchen. She'd never been one for loving kitchens, and she wasn't afraid to admit she was not the best cook out there- but she had been rather partial to the cooking of one Jethro Gibbs. Briefly, she wondered what he was doing at the moment. "Probably working on that damn boat of his." She sighed softly, kneading the counter edge and rolling her shoulders. Why did every Saturday morning have to be like this? At least, every Saturday since she'd started at NCIS and she and Jethro had accidentally reignited that spark she'd struggled so long to douse.

Reaching up and rubbing her eyes, she stood up straight and pulled herself together, trying to push the empty feeling away. She was finding at this point, though, it was getting a little too hard to do that. She walked back to the table, sinking into her chair again and resting her chin on her knuckles to stare at the empty chair. Six years ago, that chair wouldn't have been empty. She only knew that since he left, her idea of home had become somewhat more lonely, and despite how hard she tried to just forget the feelings she'd held on so tightly to in Paris, it just couldn't be done.

_Perhaps,_ She decided, _I should try and find justification, rather than more reasons to upset myself._ She narrowed her eyes at the empty chair. Without him, there was one less man to pick up after. One less person to have to worry about feeding, one less person to keep warm… One less person to laugh with, and one less person to love.

Jenny sighed with frustration, standing up so fast her chair scraped backwards. She stormed from the kitchen and made her way upstairs. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever shake this feeling. On the other hand, it was a Saturday, and he wasn't working. Perhaps it was time to pay him a visit. She sat down heavily on her bed, running a hand through her long hair and glancing at her half empty bed. It was obvious one side was slept on more than the other.

She laid back, resting her hands over her face and letting out a slow breath. She missed Europe, and now there was just no denying that. She _did_ miss waking up with someone, being around someone, having someone to come home to. Namely, Jethro. She was regretting saying no, despite her reasons- she was regretting leaving him altogether, even though in her mind she had reason to. She had to stop lying to herself, because lately it took reliving memories just to get herself to sleep lately. Even reliving memories to scratch a certain itch. She whimpered softly, scrubbing at her face and groaning with frustration.

Surely, it had been at least an hour and she'd been dragging this out far too long. Without a moment of hesitation, she got up and went to her closet, pushing her robe off and dressing in exactly what he would have loved those few years ago in Europe. Nothing fancy. She tugged her tank top over her head, and then pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbing her sweater off of the foot of her bed. She took the stairs quickly, stopping briefly at the bottom to get runners on. She wasn't going to try and impress anyone today. She picked up her purse and grasped at her keys, casting one last glare into the kitchen. _A chair is still a chair, even if there's no one sitting there._ She reminded herself, stepping outside and barely giving herself time to lock the door before she started toward her car. It was time to go _home, she wasn't meant to live alone._


End file.
